I wish I could be a cartographer all of the time, instead of being one with the prefixes “part-time” or “amateur”, but they’ll have to stick for now. The adhesive is re-positionable, and someday, will fall off altogether, shed like a snake skin, to reveal the permanence of iambs, tattooed all over me, an outward sign that the gray and mundane, the “I have to’s” and “It’s necessary’s” no longer wield any power, don’t fill my mouth like marbles, and can be spit into the bonfire to burn, the bonfire I call artistic freedom. I stoke it with ideas, words, sentences, similes, whatever my mind can find. And in its light, I truly, finally, see.
© Jamy Sweet 2011-08-27